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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29841180">Toothache</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrus_season/pseuds/citrus_season'>citrus_season</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gintama</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A semi-serious fanfic, BAMF Gintoki, Journalist Toshirou, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Somewhat depictions of violence, Superhero GIN, superhero au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:21:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,705</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29841180</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrus_season/pseuds/citrus_season</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hijikata Toshirou, probably : "Is it a bird? A plane? Ugh, it's that fucking bastard, GIN!"</p><p>ㅡor, Hijikata Toshirou is a journalist specializing in reporting incidence of villainous activities, and Gintoki is the world's strongest superhero named GIN.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Toothache</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey don’t you think the title is a tad, I don’t know, passive-aggressive?”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?” Toshirou stops typing. Kondo is standing behind him with a troubled expression. Toshirou’s hands hover over his keyboard in a moment of consideration. He reads his headline once just to be sureㅡ <b> <em>Mouth breather GIN saves the day again, or DOES HE (Fuck him.)</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>It looks fine to him.</p><p> </p><p>In any caseㅡ “It’s just a draft,” he tells Kondo.</p><p> </p><p>Kondo’s face brightens dramatically, a little too immediate for Toshirou’s comfort. He claps his hands together, biceps bulging tightly against his white button up shirt. It would look attractive if not for the unfashionably tanned suit vest with the unidentifiable pattern he’s wearing over it. Toshirou wonders whether he’s behind the times to be feeling so averse toward a clothing item, but Toshirou is only twenty five years old and Kondo is older than him, so that hypothesis doesn’t hold, does it? He unenthusiastically assumes it's a paparazzi unit thing. </p><p> </p><p>“I see, well, Toshirou-kunㅡ ah, is it okay if I call you Toshi?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not really.”</p><p> </p><p>“So Toshi, since I’m new to this department, I was hoping to get to know you better. Do you want to go out for Korean bbq tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>Toshirou doesn’t get along well with the optimistic type. Especially when this quality is docked together with gross, oblivious forcefulness. It’s the worst combination of the century, next only to mint chocolate ice cream. In most of these cases, his frustrations tend to translate into well-deserved outbursts of anger. The problem here is that Kondo is the new editor-in-chief, and Toshirou really likes his job. To be completely honest, Toshirou is feeling slightly cornered. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be paying through the company card, so eat as much as you’d like.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll go.”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p> </p><p>The thing about morals is thatㅡ well, GIN doesn’t have any. </p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>Toshirou points towards the toothpaste advertisement stuck to the subway train’s dingy wall. GIN is grinning brightly in all of his white-spandex, white mask and blue cape glory, or rather, atrocity. Personally, Toshirou doesn’t have anything against hero costumes. There were good ones and there were ones that belonged in a traveling circus, this was just a fact he has to live with. In this particular instance, GIN has the toothpaste tube in one hand, and on his mask, right between his brows, a stylishly intense kanji for <em> Sugar </em> laughs at the entire world. On the bottom of the poster, the quote reads, ‘I’m here to fight for Truth, Justice and Strong Teeth.’ Toshirou wonders if this company can be sued for copyright infringement.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s advertising for dental health. There are too many problems to point out but I don’t like wasting my time on this imbecile. I <em> will </em> say this. The bastard took money to promote strong teeth when his teeth can rip through literal steel. It doesn’t matter how much of that toothpaste you use, all you will get are enamel-decayed teeth full of holes.”</p><p> </p><p>“You seem to know a lot about GIN.”  </p><p> </p><p>Orange light flashes across his vision. Toshirou’s squinted eyes follow the remnants of the sunset outside the train’s glass doors. He checks his watch, 5:52. </p><p> </p><p>"Well, he's the world's strongest hero. This is all public information.”  </p><p> </p><p>“Right, I’m not all that into hero stuff so I wouldn’t know.”  </p><p> </p><p>“Kondo-san,” perhaps there’s a sharper meaning to Toshirou’s gaze when he looks at Kondo, a little curious, a little judgemental. Something matter-of-factly in his tone that shouldn’t belong in a conversation between a superior and his employee. Kondo blinks repeatedly, but Toshirou’s favorite aspect of non-verbal communication is that he can ignore it, “our department's purpose is to report villainous activities. I don’t mean to be rude butㅡ to my knowledge you requested your transfer, right? You were in the paparazzi department before?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but I really disliked it, peeping into other people’s lives isn’t for me, you know? I requested for a transfer several times, but for some mysterious reason it kept getting rejected. Then I met our head publisher by chance and he said the only department he could put me in was the one with Hijikata Toshirou.”</p><p> </p><p>Matsudaira, that bastard. Nonetheless, the confidence put in his name does reassure him in his current circumstances. Turns out, he doesn’t need to feel on edge with Kondo for the exact reasons he had started out with. </p><p> </p><p>“I see.”</p><p> </p><p>A woman’s voice announces their destination through the speaker phones, and they move to stand in front of the doors as the train decelerates tenuously. Toshirou catches a brief, blurred out reflection of himself in the glass panels when they move inside a dark tunnel. His oversized, dark green sweater vest sticks out like a sore thumb, next to Kondo, he looks like a well-dressed college student. He looks down at his feet, his glasses slightly slipping down the bridge of his nose. Neat oxfords without a single mud-stain or scruff. Toshirou longs to be out on the field again, but for some reason when he thinks about coming across GIN, heavy discomfort fills his chest.</p><p> </p><p>The restaurant is right across the station, the atmosphere inside is warm. Waves of people’s chatter washes over Toshirou’s senses like a familiar song, inconspicuous. Inside, the shop is tinted with shades of bronze and reflecting fire. There's smoke in the air coming from the tabletop grills. They're seated somewhere in the middle of the room.</p><p> </p><p>It takes a few seconds before a server is placing the side-dishes on their table, “pardon me, Kondo-san,” Toshirou says before he checks his phone for any urgent texts. When he glances in front of him, the bowls are piled up. Hurriedly, he clears some place, “thank you,” Toshirou says, looking up. </p><p> </p><p>The server is very handsome, for a second, Toshirou’s heart squeezes inside his chest. The guy glances at him, curly silver hair falling messily into his eyes. The sun must have setㅡ all of the overhead lights turn on, and the angles of his face gain sharp contrasts. A buttery glow casts itself across his high cheekbones, skin looking soft to touch. His expression is lethargic, but his gaze is sharp enough to cut clean through a bad impression. Kondo prattles away their order, and with a nod, the server walks away. </p><p> </p><p>Toshirou would melt in his seat if only this guy wasn’t trying to look like GIN. After all, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t become your hero. There was only one GIN in this world. Coloring your hair and perming it like that had to be expensive and painful, perhaps he should write an article about it. The epidemic of citizens spending their life earnings to imitate heroes, and the masses of grief-stricken Japanese mothers who have to deal with the aftermath of unrepressed bullshit.</p><p> </p><p>“You were saying GIN’s the world’s strongest hero? I assume he earns a lot, that title must hold a lot of monetary value.”</p><p> </p><p>Toshirou joins his hands in quiet gratitude before he picks up the silver chopsticks. They sit in his hands heavier than the typical bamboo ones, “Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, he doesn’t earn anything. Actually, he owes the government more than what he should be paid," ㅡToshirou brings a few mung bean sprouts to his mouthー “he keeps destroying the city in his endeavors. I guess he thinks he can take it easy since our evacuation protocols are so efficient, or maybe the city itself is collateral damage to him.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never seen a hero fight. It’s so fascinating to me that you know so much. You’ve met him right, what kind of a guy is he?”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s a piece of shit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Kondo says, “there must be more to the story than that.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re too sympathetic, Kondo-san, but this world is full of bastards.”</p><p> </p><p>Kondo smiles like he understands something. Toshirou wants to childishly yell out that he has actually met GIN so he knows better, but obviously he doesn’t know better if he’s having trouble with impulses that would be more appropriate if he were a snot-nosed brat holding a <em> Magazine, </em> unaware of this world’s numerous complexities. Back then, he used to genuinely believe that he could cross the road during a red light and get away with it because people simply <em> wouldn’t </em>hit him. If he did something like that now, he’d either be put in a psych ward or be called an idiot, and he doesn't know which was worse. </p><p> </p><p>“Here is your gopchang.” Toshirou glances at the server and warns his heart of murder if it doesn’t stop behaving like its a shoujo manga type. In front of him, a plate of raw pig intestines paint the scene grotesque. </p><p> </p><p>“We didn’t order this!” Kondo says, sounding a little desperate, hiding his eyes away from the sight. A little rude, if Toshirou may say so, it’s food after all and many people like gopchang, “Sakata-kun, it’s table number three!” a woman yells from behind the counter. The server ducks his head in apology, although his expression doesn’t seem sorry, in fact there’s more emotion in his eyes when he looks at the plate of gopchang as he takes it away. Alright, if this guy continued to act like a psycho, Toshirou’s misplaced infatuation with his appearance was as good as gone.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry if I offended you, I’m bad with food that looks like that.” </p><p> </p><p>As he hurriedly says that, Kondo reminds him of a little kid. Toshirou amends, he smiles, eyes crinkling, “it’s fine, that’s rightㅡ since we were talking about him, it reminds me of how I first met GIN.”</p><p> </p><p>Kondo pales, “What does that even mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not a big deal, but I don’t think you’d appreciate the story.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, that’s horrifying, just how rough is your job? We haven’t even considered that there are evil villains involved!”</p><p> </p><p>Toshirou shakes his head, “It’s not that bad,” ㅡhe points his chipsticks towards the doorㅡ”most villains aren’t very evil, in fact, there was a major incident at the bank right down that street about a couple years ago.”</p><p> </p><p>“You covered the story?”</p><p> </p><p>Toshirou nods, biting down on a piece of pickled radish and swallowing the crunch, “Of course.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://in.pinterest.com/pin/571605377711465172/">This</a><br/>is what I imagined Toshirou to be wearing in this chapter.</p><p>For reference, "I'm here to fight for truth, justice and the American dream," is Superman's dialogue.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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